Tough Love
by Poetique823
Summary: Tough love is not fooled by your bitterness and anger. It remembers your confidence when you are broken; it remembers your strength when you are weak. When you push it away, it pushes back-whatever it takes to make you fight.


****A/N: Here's a special fanfic gift for one of my wonderful reviewers, Happy96. She wanted a Donnie and Raph one-shot. Out of the three requested prompts I picked** the aftermath from the IDW comic issue #44. I think most tmnt fans know what happened in __that__ issue. The prompt is from the comic but it is written in the 2012 universe. It's a small scene, but I really hope you like it, Happy96! Enjoy!**

 ** **Tough Love****

Tough love is not fooled by your bitterness and anger. It remembers your confidence when you are broken; it remembers your strength when you are weak. When you push it away, it pushes back-whatever it takes to make you fight.

Breathe in... Breathe out.

The calming image of a candle fills my mind as its flame gently sways with each exhale of my breath.

In and out... In and—

My afternoon meditation is disturbed by a cushioned thud.

"It's okay, let's try again."

"No, I'm done."

"But, we just started and you haven't even—"

"I said, __no."__

"Donnie, please, will you at least try to—"

"Screw off, Leo, I said NO!"

There's a muffled sigh and the familiar squeaky whine of a wheelchair but I keep my eyes closed as I try to ignore it and focus on my meditation. I started this routine a few months ago. Meditation wasn't really my choice, more like a last alternative.

I was so __angry__ before… no…. it was beyond anger. It was an all-consuming and blinding rage. The kind of rage that explodes into something vengeful, unquenchable, and dangerous. The kind of rage that almost got my baby brother killed.

I was so hell-bent on killing that psychopathic rhino-man who put a freakin' hammer in Donnie's shell, nothing else mattered. It didn't matter that my father was doing the best he could to keep Donnie alive; it didn't matter that Leo was struggling to keep it together or that Mikey was slowly breaking behind that plastered smile of his. I didn't care.

Every night, I went topside, breaking as many arms, legs, and ribs as I could get my hands on until one of those lowlife Purple Dragons finally told me where the rhino was hiding out. When I found the coward, I knew I was going to kill him with my bare hands, slamming his horns through his head with his own hammer.

What I didn't know was that Mikey followed me.

I didn't know my little brother was terrified of the volcanic blood-lusting monster I was becoming. He was scared he was gonna lose another brother that night, and because of my bull-headedness, I almost lost __him__ instead. We both made it home that night with nothing more than a few bumps and bruises, but it dawned on me just how much my actions affected my family... how my immaturity disguised as serving justice nearly put another brother on his death bed.

That night, I never said anything to my family about this self-revelation. I just went straight to the dojo the next morning and started meditating. I knew I had to tame the wildfire running rampant in me; otherwise I would be nothing more than a never-healing inflamed sore to my wounded family. They needed me to be strong... especially Donnie.

For months, I channeled my anger through meditation, while Donnie lay comatose in the medbay.

Five months passed before he finally woke up. We were all relieved to have the Brainiac back. His shattered shell was still mending, a spiderweb of cracks still evident on his misshapen shell; a reminder of why I needed to keep my temper in check. Our hope for a sense of normalcy was crushed the moment Don said he couldn't feel anything past his lower plastron.

At first Don seemed okay, a little withdrawn, but okay. Not like I was expecting him to be Mr. Sunshine and Giggles, I mean he's in a freakin' wheelchair for crying out loud... that's definitely some adjusting that ain't gonna happen overnight. Eventually, he started getting his strength back and some kinda feelin' in his feet and we all counted it a blessing. Then his progress seemed to just stop—he wasn't getting any better…. Like his body just decided, 'this is as good as it's gonna get.' That's when things started going south real fast. Guess I just didn't expect the bitterness to hit him so hard. Some days are worse than others.

"I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP, YOU SELF-RIGHTEOUS SON OF A—"

Looks like today is one of those days. Meditation will have to wait for now. I open my eyes to find Donnie sprawled awkwardly on the floor trying unsuccessfully to pull himself into his wheelchair. Leo rubs a shaky hand over his head. He looks like he's about to have a stroke. Poor guy's been taking on full responsibility for Donnie's physical therapy. I grunt as I stand to my feet and make my way over to my brothers. He's about to get a break, whether he wants it or not.

"I can't deal with him today, I... I just can't." Leo's hushed voice deepens with a frustrated nervousness as steps closer to me. I've never seen him look so…. lost.

"It's okay, bro. Why don'tcha take a break." I cup Leo's shoulder. "I'll work with Don on his therapy."

Leo's conflicted gaze breaks away from me as he stares back at our broken brother still struggling to maneuver himself into the wheelchair. I know he wants to take back his confession, but I won't give him the chance to.

"You should go check on Sensei and see how he's doing with that head cold. I'll work with Don," I reassure him with a half-smile. I know Leo like the back of my hand. Exchanging one responsibility for a less…. confrontational one is the best way to get him to 'rest' without 'resting'.

"Yeah... okay, I'll do that. Just... just come get me if—"

"Don't worry, I got him." He looks at me with a small nod. He knows I'm trying... and that I'm a lot better than I was a few months ago. Not perfect, but better.

"I don't need him or __you__ babysitting me like I'm some incapacitated cripple." Don's vicious tone doesn't faze me as I walk over to the wheelchair he's still angrily trying to pull himself onto.

"I ain't babysittin' you. You're going to do your therapy." I keep my response simple and direct as I tug the armrests from his grasp and move the wheelchair to the other end of the makeshift parallel bars my brothers and I installed to help Don with his rehab.

"What are you— ? ...stop it! ...Bring it back!" he growls at me, slamming his fists into the cushioned mat beneath him.

"You want your wheels, you gotta do therapy first." He's not too happy about that bargain and he looks mad enough to cuss... which he does shortly after. If it were under different circumstances his colorful language would have made me proud.

"I'm not doing this stupid pointless therapy just so you can gawk at the gimp!"

"No one's gonna gawk atcha, you know that. Now, come on. The quicker you do your therapy, the quicker I'll be outta your face."

He stares at me with a defiance that settles and steeps like hot coals in his amber eyes. I wonder if this is how I looked to my family during my fits of explosive rage. However, unlike me, he doesn't fall into another curse-filled violent outburst. Instead he snaps his death glare away from me and starts dragging himself across the mat on his elbows toward the wheelchair. That stubborn little turd.

"Seriously, Don? You'd rather crawl on the floor like a slug instead of even trying therapy?"

He gives a dark and bitter snort, "Actually, I would be a snail... slugs don't have __shells__." Even through his crude sarcasm, I can hear the self-loathing and pity in his voice.

"Alright, that's it." Huffing out the frustration before it can build up in my chest, I straddle him from behind and lift him carefully by his armpits. His shell is practically hanging off his body. He shouldn't be this thin.

"Hey! ...Put me __down__ right now, you obtuse, thick-headed Coccydynia!"

"Whoa, that's a new one." Humoring his insults with fake amusement, I hoist him between the bars and force his hands on either side of the metal railing. "There ya go."

His mask of fury cracks as his eyes widen at his new upright position. "Wait... wait... what are you doing?! You can't leave me like this!"

"Not going anywhere, buddy. I'm right here." I pat the other end of the railing. "Walk toward me and you get old Betsy back." I roll the squeaky wheels of his rickety wheelchair back and forth. He stares at me, dumbfounded, like I'm speakin' Swahili... actually it wouldn't surprise me if he __did__ understand Swahili, the know-it-all.

"Give me the stupid chair back, Raph!" His arms shake as he yells every syllable, but I don't cater to his demand. "You idiotic jerk!..." His voice hitches with an emotion that's getting harder and harder for him to hide.

"If you spent half as much time moving your feet as you do insulting me, you'd be in your chair by now. Come on, brother, just five little steps and you're home free."

Furious tears wobble precariously in his tortured stare, but he's too stubborn to let them fall, too afraid of what I'll think of him.

He screams a few more obscenities at me, but I just cross my arms and arch an unimpressed brow at him.

"You think you're better than me, huh? You think you're a saint because you had some kind of life-changing epiphany?" His tone is malicious and taunting as he tries to get a rise out of me. His gaunt, lifeless legs tremble and shake under the weight of his body as he continues holding himself upright between the parallel bars with his arms. "You haven't changed. You're pathetic... nothing but a sorry joke. Beneath the fake meditation you're still the same ruthless, selfish nutcase you've always been. So stop pretending like you care when you know you wished I'd never woken up."

I can feel the flickering candle in the calm of my center begin to melt as a dangerous and familiar flame swallows it whole. He thinks I can't change, that these months of meditation and self-improvement were in vain. As my face flushes like lava beneath my skin, I wonder if my brainy brother is right. Am I just fooling myself thinking that someone like me could be anything more than a volatile force of destruction? My knuckles crack as I form a fist in a matter of seconds, ready to lay my wounded brother flat on his shell with a single punch.

….My wounded and miserable brother. My angry brother who knows how to press my buttons to try and make me give up on him, like he's given up on himself. His anger isn't some crazy outburst of injustice like mine. His anger is more calculated, more deliberate…. he goes for the kill. I take a calming breath. Now's not the time to be fooled by his venomous words. Those cutting words feed the fiery furnace of my soul, but instead of letting that fire consume me, I direct it, give it purpose. I gather it all into a single beam of energy. Ready, aim, and fire.

"You know what? ...Maybe __you__ wished you hadn't woken up." My words make him recoil and I know I've hit an emotional nerve. I continue to pace myself choosing my words carefully . "You wish you were dead 'cause it's easier than fighting to live."

"THIS ISN'T LIVING!" A vein spasms in the side of his neck as he screams at me. His legs tremble harder as his right foot scuffs the mat in small forward motion.

"Then fight harder!"

"I AM!... You have no idea how hard this is…." He grinds his teeth as he speaks, but I'm not sure if it's 'cause he's teed at me or if it's pain from shifting his left foot.

"Yeah, you're right. I don't know how hard it is but I know how strong you are."

"…Not strong… enough." His arms are twitching from exertion as he hisses in pain, but he's already taken two shuffled steps. "I… I can't…." He gasps as he struggles to right himself as his left leg buckles beneath him. His face is etched in agony as his eyes plead for me to help him. But I won't, not yet. He needs to see the same will-power that I've always known him to have.

"Yeah. You can. So suck it up and stop being a coward." Out the corner of my eye, I see Leo and Mikey standing by the dojo entrance. They don't interfere. I think they know how much Don needs this.

"I'm not a coward." This time his anger is fueled by determination as he takes another taxing step toward me. I can see a spark of vibrant life in his eyes that I haven't seen in weeks.

"Good, then stop actin' like one. One more step, bro."

"I'll… fall…. and…" His voice shrinks into something timid and uncertain as a nearly silent whimper slips from his lips. __I'll fall and never get better….__ He doesn't have to say it, but I know it's what he's afraid of.

"And I'll be there before ya even hit the ground." Our eyes lock with an unspoken trust and hope. Even when he takes that last step and his legs give out as he tumbles into my waiting arms, I know he'll be okay. We'll be okay.

"I HATE YOU!" he screams into my chest as I lower us both onto the mat. He doesn't mean it any more than I did when I said it to Leo during the first two months of Don's coma. His weak fists punch at my plastron. "I hate you…. I hate you…. I… I… hate… __this….__ I hate it…." Quivering sobs wrack his whole body as he stops fighting me and I hold him close.

"I know, Don, but it's gonna be okay, man. I got ya."

It's quiet for a moment aside from Donnie's hiccupped breathing as he regains his composture.

"….Still hate you," he mutters pitifully into the crook of my neck. My body quakes with a deep chuckle as I wipe a stray tear from face. A touch of my brother's dry humor managed to come to surface even through his current pain and suffering.

"I know, little brother, I know."

Yeah, we're gonna be okay.

 ** **A/N: I know I'll probably get some backlash on Raphael in this one-shot...I've been told I make him too mean...ah, well, lol. As always thanks for reading and leave a review! ;)****


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